24 CENTS PER GRAM

the stench of yesteryear
a calling to the winds
freedom fractured
I will take two of those
we are all actors
in a show about death
and lack of compassion
clinging to sanity
by the mouth of a drip-feed
forget about your dreams
soon they'll charge you
for your finest moments
we think the ship is safe
but it was sinking
the day that we were born
thrust into the firing line
they send bullets made of candy
into our empty heads
I forgot to scan
the most expensive item
I'd rather spend the money
riding on the train
to nowhere in a hurry
I forgot to be happy
because I couldn't afford it
I skipped ahead of the queue
just so I didn't have to deal
with waiting in line
or walking on the line
which leads to happiness
prescribe what you will
but I'd still refuse to swallow it
a cool wind blows
a change in the weather
a break from the cauldron
that's 24 cents per gram